


better late than never

by pinkish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Prompt Fic, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been unpresented for ever -- so long that he doesn't mind if he never does, but Sam drags him to the doctor anyway. When Dean meets Dr. Novak, he's amazed to see the sexiest guy he's ever met, but he's even more amazed when he starts feeling the symptoms of his first heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better late than never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuddle_me_carl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddle_me_carl/gifts).



Dean had had a tough time in high school when all his friends started presenting, at first slowly, then (it seemed) one right after the other. A new friend every day strutting into class with a shit-eating grin just waiting for someone to scent them. They didn’t care how they presented (though they’d care later, when they realized that some doors would now be shut), they were just so fucking smug that they had. Dean spent way more time than he’s proud to admit trying to guess how he’d present (he’d read up on all the old wives’ tales about things like birthmarks and palm readings and whether a coin landed tails more than heads) and it almost killed him when Sammy presented as Alpha before he did.

He’d whined to Jo, then, that it wasn’t fair. He could deal with her being an Alpha already, because it was so obvious to anyone who’d known her that she’d present that way, but Sammy was still only fourteen -- how come he got to know who he was so early and Dean was still ... nothing?

She’d punched him on the shoulder and asked him if Sam being Alpha changed how Dean felt about him.

Of course it didn’t.

So Dean not being Alpha or Beta or Omega -- that didn’t matter either. Dean had rolled his eyes, not willing to admit how much she’d helped.

Having survived his baby brother presenting before him, Dean resigned himself to his fate. It’d happen when it’d happen. If someone didn’t want to hang out with him because they couldn’t scent him, well, that was their problem.

And anyway, there was no shortage of sexy dudes and ladies who wanted to fuck him -- for the experience, in the hopes they’d be the ones to make him present, because it’d piss off their parents -- so it’s not like Dean was lonely or anything.

In fact, by the time he turned 25, he was pretty happy to never have to deal with things like ruts or heats or suppressants or birth control. There was just so much to think about when you were an Alpha or an Omega. Sam theorized that Dean had actually presented as a Beta, but his scent and instincts were so weak that he just seemed unpresented. Dean didn’t really give a shit any more, but Sam was a fucking geek and had to know the answer to everything.

Fucking Sam.

It was Sam who made the appointment with the specialist and dragged Dean to his office. It was Sam who dropped Dean off saying he’d be back in a few hours and that Dean should take lots of notes.

But it was Dean who sat, fidgeting and nervous in the waiting room, until the nurse called him into the doctor’s office.

He heard a gruff voice speaking to someone behind the closed door before it opened, so he was looking straight at the doctor when he walked in.

The guy was hot. Like, hotter than anything Dean had ever seen kind of hot. Luckily, the doctor was too distracted by the notes in his folder to see Dean ogle him, then shake himself out of it and try to compose himself into something remotely professional.

“I’m Dr. Novak,” the sexiest man Dean had ever laid eyes on said, not extending a hand for Dean to shake (good idea, probably -- Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from pulling the man towards him), “And it says here you’re worried about being unpresented?”

“Uh,” Dean tried to pull his eyes from the doctor’s hands but only succeeded in looking at his face, which really wasn’t any better (those lips, those eyes), “not really. I’m perfectly happy, but my little brother’s convinced I’m some kind of special case.”

Dr. Novak put the file down and looked straight at Dean. He didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Dean could feel himself heating up from the attention. He felt his heart race and his stomach tighten and had to think about that time he walked into the bathroom only to find Bobby enjoying a bath in order to calm himself down.

“It’s perfectly normal not to have presented by now. Some people go through it early in their teens, but the average is actually at 20. You’re...twenty-five, so you’re on the late end of the curve, but there’s nothing to worry about until you hit thirty.”

Dean nodded -- he’d read as much, and would say that to Sam when he picked him up in...fuck. An hour and a half.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” The doctor asked, stashing Dean’s file into a folder, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

“Nope. That’s it,” Dean said (definitely not saying fuck me fuck me), “But my ride’s not going to be here for a while -- is there somewhere nearby I can wait for him?”

The doctor recommended the coffee shop across the street and smiled when he wished Dean a good day.

Any day that didn’t involve having those lips wrapped around his cock was not gonna be a good day, but it seemed that Dean was way off his game because he could only stammer his thanks as he backed out the door.

He’d taken his first sip of coffee in the way-too-hip coffee shop before he realized that something was off. He was horny, yeah, which he expected after seeing the world’s most beautiful person, but he was shaky and hot and anxious and he couldn’t calm himself down. He was starting to get looks from the other patrons, he was so jittery. But it wasn’t until he heard a little kid say “Why does that man smell funny, mom?” that he realized something was really fucking wrong.

He ran to the cafe’s bathroom to splash water on his face and look at himself in the mirror -- maybe he’d developed some kind of fungus or disease or growth or anything but that.

“No no no no,” he moaned at his reddened face in the mirror, “Not now, come on, man. You waited this long, why couldn’t you wait a few more hours?”

He’d read stories of people presenting for the first time in public, but they were so rare as to be practically urban legends -- most parents could sense when their kids were about to present and, at the very least, could get them fairly quickly to a private place.

He really didn’t want to have to go through this in a fucking hipster coffee shop.

He half-jogged across the street to the doctor’s office, not looking anyone in the eye as he passed, hoping that they’d give him a private room or something until Sam showed up.

“I need to see Dr., uh, Dr No-something again,” he tried not to shout as he leaned against the receptionists’ desk. “It’s, uh, kind of an emergency.”

“‘Kind of an emergency?’” the receptionist raised his eyebrows at him, “I don’t think that’s a real thing.” He went back to clicking at his computer, ignoring the fact that Dean was practically sweating on his desk.

“Look, buddy,” Dean lowered his voice to the growl that always got him attention, “I’m too old to go through my first heat in your fucking waiting room. Get me the doctor now.”

Before the asshat could make a snarky reply, Dr. Novak showed up and raised his eyebrows at the sight before him. He sniffed, once, in the air, and grimaced -- out of pity? sympathy? -- before sighing and telling his receptionist to shift his appointments to the on-call doctor.

“Come with me, Mr. Winchester. I’ll get you set up in our exam room until your ‘ride’ shows up.”

“Please, man, just call me Dean. This is gonna suck enough without having to answer to Mister Winchester.”

That earned Dean a small smile and a touch on his shoulder to lead him into the same exam room as before. “Alright, Dean. You may call me Castiel.”

“So, uh, Castee-el, I guess I’m going through my first heat?” Dean said as he slumped into a chair.

“It would appear that that is the case. These are not the symptoms of a rut, as -- I’m sure -- you know.”

“Poor Sammy’s gonna be so heartbroken. I think he really thought he’d discovered something new in me.”

“You’re not upset to be presenting as an Omega?” Castiel leaned forward, expressing genuine interest in Dean for the first time that day.

“Nah -- I know some people are, but,” Dean shrugged, “I’ll survive. Things are getting better for them -- us, I guess -- every day.”

There was a pause as a particularly distracting hot flash passed through Dean.

“Although, if this is gonna be my life from now on...maybe it won’t be so hot.”

Castiel laughed at that, standing up to wet a paper towel.

“Don’t worry, Dean. The first heat’s always the worst. You’ll get through this one and then you’ll be more prepared for the next.”

Dean gratefully accepted the cool towel, shivering when his fingers brushed Castiel’s.

“If you say so, Cas,” Dean said as he closed his eyes at the comfort of the cold water.

He felt a hand brush against his cheek and opened his eyes, surprised.

“Uh,” Castiel stammered, “you don’t have a fever. You’ll be fine.”

Castiel made his way back to his chair on the other side of the room, apparently trying to keep his distance from Dean.

“I’ll just, leave you be -- I’ll let you know when your brother arrives.”

“No--” Dean was shocked by the volume of his own voice, “I mean -- I’d prefer it if you stayed. I’m, uh, just a little nervous?” He’d laugh at the quaver in his voice, but he really didn’t want Cas to leave.

“I, uh, really shouldn’t stay, Dean---Mr. Winchester,” This time, it was Castiel’s face that turned crimson, “I appear to have been affected by your heat. And, well, it would be difficult to maintain a professional distance if I stayed.”

“Please,” Dean heard himself whimper, but refused to believe it was his voice.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said once he’d shaken off the instincts that were telling him to grab hold of Cas and never let go. “You don’t have to stay -- kids go through this, right? I can handle it.”

He tried to laugh, to lighten the mood, but when he looked up at Castiel he saw lust, desire, need, want in the man’s eyes and that was it. He wasn’t going to be able to pull himself together now.

“Or,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he stood up and crossed the room, “you could stay.”

Castiel backed up towards the door, professional ethics warring against instinct, against need, and Dean knew which side had won when he pressed himself against the doctor.

Cas took a deep breath, “Fuck, Dean. You smell so good.”

Dean laughed -- he’d heard that line in porn, had it said to him (mockingly) by lovers, but he’d never felt it like he did just then. It was fucking absurd. He pressed his nose into the crook of Cas’s neck and took in his scent. It was like fireworks going off in his brain -- everything short-circuited and he couldn’t think straight, much less process what the rest of his body was doing.

He felt his hands reach up beneath Cas’s shirt, felt them stroke along Cas’s back as he pulled them closer together. He felt his legs move so that he could rub himself against Cas’s leg. Slowly, he felt the fog of Cas’s scent (definitely alpha) dissipate and he could focus on what was happening -- Cas was lifting Dean’s shirt off his back and pushing them towards the exam table. At some point between the door and the table, they took off their clothes, but Dean couldn’t actually remember that happening. He had a vague recollection of Cas’s fingers pulling at his belt, at his waistband, but everything else was a blur.

All he knew was that they needed to be as naked as possible, as close as possible -- as soon as possible.

“Oh God, Dean,” Cas moaned into Dean’s neck between sucking marks into his skin, “Can I fuck you?”

“You damn well better, Cas,” Dean said, punctuating his reply by pressing his crotch against Cas’s. “I’m getting fucking disgustingly wet, and if you don’t do something about it, I’m going to--”

Dean didn’t have time to finish his threat, because Cas picked him up and sat him on the table. Suddenly, Dean’s brain didn’t have space for snarky replies or sarcastic comments. It only had room for _Cas_ and _fuck me_.

Cas pressed kisses along Dean’s neck, and dipped his head towards Dean’s chest to lick at a nipple. As Dean did not whimper Cas’s name, Cas pressed his fingers against Dean’s entrance.

Dean had had anal sex before, but he’d always needed lube and prep and time, but Cas’s finger slid in easily, smoothly, deliciously. Soon Cas had three fingers inside him and he unerringly brushed against Dean’s prostate with every stroke.

“Fuck me, now, Cas. Do it,” Dean growled into Cas’s skin.

Without hesitating, Cas maneuvered Dean so that he was lying on the table, with his legs wrapped around Cas and sheathed his cock inside Dean in one swift thrust.

For a moment, Dean’s brain shut down. Everything went black and quiet and then -- like a camera coming into focus -- all he could see, all he could feel, was Cas.

Judging by the look of awe on Cas’s face, he was feeling the same way.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, afraid to say more (what if this is what it was like for omegas? what if it was the endorphins and adrenaline talking? what if -- it wasn’t real?), but then he saw Cas’s expression shift from one of wonder to one of determination.

“Dean --” Cas’s voice broke, “Dean...”

 _“Move,_ Cas.”

Cas began thrusting into Dean, at first slowly, with long, deep strokes, but soon they were fucking, rutting, without rhythm or grace, just trying to get as much from the other as they possibly could. Dean could feel Cas’s knot growing and the pressure set something off inside him. He could feel his orgasm building, but he had to wait. He needed to wait -- for what?

Cas’s already erratic rhythm sped up and stuttered even more as the knot stopped him from pulling back. He pressed his chest against Dean’s and licked a stripe up Dean’s throat.

Dean heard himself say “Do it, Cas.”

Cas’s hips stuttered and he groaned, “No, it’s your first heat, Dean. I can’t --- what if--”

“Cas, do it, fuck, please I need it Cas. I _need you_.”

“Oh God -- Dean, I--” Cas pushed himself into Dean as far as he could, knot swelling wonderfully inside Dean, and he scraped his teeth against Dean’s neck.

“Dean, I want to -- I want to so badly, but I need to know you really want it. Please let me wait until next time. I promise, next time.”  
Dean shuddered -- disappointment, arousal, frustration -- and tried to fight the instincts that were screaming for the bite. He’d found his mate, so he needed to be claimed.

“Promise?”  
“Yes,” Cas said as he thrust one last time, spilling into Dean. The sound of Cas’s voice, the way he smelled when he came sent Dean over the edge.

They might have spent seconds or minutes breathing in each other’s scent and gasping for air, with Cas collapsed against Dean, but eventually Cas shifted Dean further up along the exam table so that they could both lie down.

“Did you mean it?”

Dean wasn’t sure which one of them asked the question.

“Yeah. I meant it.”

It didn’t really matter who said it.

******

“Is it like that every time or was that like first-heat-awesome-sex?” Dean grinned at Cas as they untangled themselves and figured out which articles of clothing belonged to whom.

“It is not like that every time, Dean -- first heat or not.”

Cas’s tone -- serious, hurt, frustrated -- stopped Dean mid-way through pulling on his jeans.

“Cas -- look at me,” Dean said as he pulled his jeans over his hips and walked towards him, “I know that was special. I just --- I’m not great at dealing with, you know, feelings and stuff. I know _you’re_ special.”

Cas huffed out a breath as he brought a hand to stroke against where he’d almost bit Dean.

“I guess your brother was half-right -- you are a special case.”

“Oh?” Dean pulled himself close against Cas, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Do you know how rare it is to have your heat bond-induced? It’s something along the lines of 1% of the entire population -- world-wide.”

Hearing Cas say the word -- _bond_ \-- out loud let loose something Dean hadn’t even known he’d been holding tight.

He’d known -- of course he’d known -- as soon as they’d kissed, but he hadn’t let himself think the word until now.

“You’re my mate.”

“Is that okay?” Cas sounded worried, like Dean would be upset, as though this wasn’t the best fucking thing to ever happen to him.

“Okay? Fuck, Cas -- yes it’s okay.”

They held onto each other tightly, breathing together, murmuring almost nonsense words of praise and affection until a knock at the door let them know that Sam had come to collect his brother.

The jerk was going to be insufferable about this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda lost steam at the end there, sorry :S If someone wants to take the sex and write it better, I will GLADLY accept the help :D
> 
> Find me on tumblr at moarheadcanons or pinkishfic!


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